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f
f NORTH GEORGIA TIMES.
Gat I i'ruprtctoi
The Treasure Ship.
We are always buildjng castles
.
'Of the richest, grainiest kind,
Where we sway imagined vassals
In the eoflrt rooms of the mind;
' lAMtlllmvn the'Arcadian patnwaya
Of the mftKl are wont to.roam,
1 Where yve'd stray In fant—not fancy
t . It our treasure ship came home.
And We fin3 it very pleasant
In an atmosphere of dreams—
Quite forgetful of the present—
To Indulge Uttyum themes t'
t We woultl clhiih to lilgh ambition,
We'wbuld, claim stand upon (ts.iionje,
We would earth’s recognition—
, If our treasure ship came home."
*
. ,
f!o, .WeamyAtfed with .hand ami toot inactive, ,
and iazy-limbed,
We fail find life still attractive—
. Wbflo our lamp-remains untrimmed.
" Anal Conception's we e^eulatethe pleasure
> • Hi iadcu tome—
. We’ll indulge m beyond measure—
Wheh our treasure ship comes home.
Ob, the dormant, selfish scheming
' r Of the idler cannot last;
There,yvill lie a truce to dreaming
When the present is the past;
And there'll borne a dull awaking
When he’ll find that life has gone,
And TVs treasure slop is breaking
. O’er the sands he built her on.
— [Cl G. Rogers iu Detroit Free Tress.
t
MISS MARTHA’S TRAMP.
“He qeftaiqly is a tramp, or a ped¬
dler !• Whichever lie is, I won’t have
him inside the gate!”
“lie looks tired, Anntio.”
Miss Martha Pitcher screwed her
lips up tightly, aud lookod at her niece
,apd namesake with a withering ex¬
pression!
.. “Now, Mattie,” sho said severely,
“I won’t have it. Every time a tramp
comes by, you get him milk, or bread,
or something, and as for those horrid
peddlers—” ,
Here Miss Martha’s breath gave out.
Little Mattie, shy, timid, blue-eyed
and pretty as a wild-rose, colored a
little, and then said:
“I don’t think wd aro any poorer,
Auntie, for the little we give away.”
“Well, it is yours; do as you
please.” .
For little Mattio was the owner of
tho farm' and a very small income, al¬
though as sho was only 17, her aunt
managed the household, as she had
while her brother lived, aud Mr. Pot¬
ter, the lawyer of Arrowdale, was
guardian for tho small proporty Mat
tie’s father had left her.
It was one of Miss Martha’s pecu¬
liarities to lay down tho law to Mattie
very emphatically, as to the child she
had brought up from ababy, and then,
suddenly remembering that tho girl
was really the owner of the place, to'
retreat, asabovo desoribed, from her
position. And little Ma’.tio, submit-,
ting in ad things to her aunt’s dicta¬
tion, took the permission gratefully,
never asserting herself as owner or
mistress.
In tho present instance sho said,
wistfully:
“Then I may give him some milk, if
ho asks for it?” i ■■
■
“Oli, he’ll ask fast enough I He is
opening tho gate now. Gracious,
Mattie, he looks like a brigand 1 Such
a beard, for a civilized country'”
It was a very handsome beard, if
Miss Martha had only had the taste to
admire it. The nose above it wa^
handsome, too, so were tho oveng:
white teeth under the heavy mustache,
and the large, brown eyes, half hidden
by the broad slouch hat. lie was
dusty, but not ragged, and his flannel
shirt had tho collar turned down over
a loose black tie, hidden, to bo sure,
under the curling, auburn beard.
Mattie, tripping lightly down the
garden path to the gate, was rather
startled at the tone of Jho High-bred
voice that asked :
“Can I get some luncheon here? I
cannot find any tavern or hotel on [he
road.”
“Oh, no; I moan, yes,” said Mattie,
blushing furiously under the gaze of
tho soft, brown eyes.
“I mean,” sho said, recovering her
composure, “there is not aity hotel
within three miles, and you can have
some luncheon witli pleasure. If you
oan wait half an hour we can give you
dinner.”
For that this was no tramp Mattie
saw at once, though she had seen little
of gentlemen in her life, Miss Martha
keeping all men, excoping the farm
hands, at respectful distaiuce from her
maiden domain.
“Thanks! I will wait with pleas¬
ure, if I may rest on your porch. I
am very tired.”
SPRING PLACE. GA.. THURSDAY. AUGUST 14, 1890.
He stepped wearily aud slowly to tho
porch, aud sank down upon the
chintz-covered, big arm-chair with a
sigh of relief.
“Would you like a glass of milk
now?” Mattie asked.
“I should, indeed, very much.”
But when the milk came, in a pretty
glass goblet, upon ‘a dainty china
plate, it was Jano, the. servant girl,
who brought it. Mattie, suddenly
shy, was setting tho dinner-table with
clean cloth and .napkins, and the best
china.
“Gracious, Mattie! whatever are
you doing?” cried Miss Martha, com¬
ing in the room.
“Hush, Auntie ! ho is a gentleman,
and he is coming in to dinner.”
But when dinner was daintily served,
the “gentleman” was found to have
fainted. Miss Martha, who reveled
in sick nursing, was all energy. She
got the “camphirp,” and smelling salts,
loosened the necktie, helped Jane to
carry the invalid into the large, cool
parlor, and put him on tho wide, old
fashioned sofa. It was a long insensi¬
bility; so long, that the women be
caino alarmed, and sent Hiram, the
cow-boy, to Arrowdale for the doctor.
Before the three-mile ride was ac¬
complished and the doctor arrived, the
uninvited guest had passed from in¬
sensibility to delirium, and the doctor
pronounced the case a partial sun¬
stroke.
> For two weeks Miss Martha nursed
the stranger as faithfully as if he had
been one of her pwn kin, .bringing
him back from the very coniines of the
grave. She scrupulously refrained
frdrn any curious investigation of
his small band satchel, and only
searched one coat pocket till she
fouud a letter directed to Mr.
Albert Hutchinson, box 83, Alton,
Michigan.
Mattie wroto a letter to the box,
.describing Mr. Albert Hutchinson’s
sore strait. No answer came, and
then other let tore were taken from the
pocket and were found to be directed
all over thq .country, always to “Mr.
Albert HutOlmison,” . who had evi¬
dently been upon an extpFidcd summer
tour. It was impossible to guess
where, in all this variety of location,
the home of. the~ Wanderer might be,
and so Miss MaWha put the .letters
back, saying:
“If he dies,' Mattie, I s’pose we’ll
have to read saino of those letters to
find his folks, but I’m not going pry¬
ing into them uutil I can’t help my¬
self.”
Rut Mr.' Albert Hutchinson did not
die. Very s owly he won his way
back to health; and in his convales¬
cence opened a new world to Mattio.
lie was an artist, he told her, and he
bad been on a sketching tour, sending
his papers by mail to his-studio, in
New ,¥orky where a brothor artist took
cafe of tiictn. He talked of books, of
life in Switzerland, Paris, London,
Vi6nha, Rome, till the girl felt stir¬
ring in heart and brain, a longing so
intense as to bo painful, for some
knowledge of this new world of art
and letters, of which elite had nover
heard. .
There was "nothing spoken between
the two of a ■sentimental nature, but
Mr. Hutchinson." finding this eager
young intellect grasping all he pat be¬
fore it, talked *4'ho had never talked
before, with the keen pleasuro of im¬
parting knowledge where every word
was treasured and valued.
It was a great void when he was
fully recovered and went away. Ho
paid Miss Martha liberally, with most
earnest words of gratitude for her care
of him, but when he was gone, Mattie
would not look at the roll of green¬
backs, Hushing hotly as she said:
“I am sure he was poor, Aunt
Martha. Put the money away. I hate
it I”
Bat she was restless, and craved
books out of lior reach, opportunities
to study, and tho life of travel and
culture that seemed far removed from
her. It seemed; to her only natural
when a tremendous change came.
There had long been a talk at Ar¬
rowdale of coal in tho vicinity, and
about six months' after Mr. Hutchin¬
son’s departure experiments were
madj that proved “Pitcher’s Farm”
to bo a great coal-bed. Mattie, who
by her father's will was of age a c
eighteen, found herself an heiress’
Her guardian, a man thoroughly hon¬
est, became her agent, and smiled ap¬
proval when she proposed to sell the
farm and move to New York with
Annt Martha, who was very much
elated at the idea.
“I can havo good teacher* there for
a year or two, and then I will go
abroad,” Mattie said, when tho plau
was finally adopted.
“I’ll never, cross the ocean,” Aunt
Martha declared, “but no dojubt you’ll
find company going, and I’ll keep
some sort of a honte warm for you till
you come back.”
* * * * *'’'* * '
“Now, my dear Algernon,’* Mrs.
Montrose said languidly.to her son, as
he entered lipr “apartments” in
“do show a little more interest in Miss
Pitcher's pursuits. It was such a
chance, her consenting to come abroad
witli me, and she is so rich.”
“But,” drawled Algernon, caress¬
ing his silky moustache, “she is So
dreadfully energetic. She tires me to
death, rushing about. I am sure sho
saw everything in London, and now
she is ‘doing’ Paris at a most tremend¬
ous rate! l!y the way, where is she?’
“She went to a private exhibition of
American artists with Mrs. Cope and
Carrie. You know Carrie is quite an
artist, and sho knows whero all tho
best studios and exhibitions are.”
“Yes? Dear me, mother, I am deu
cedly glad you are not forever rushing
about as girls do now-a-dayB. It is a
complete rest to come in here, after
Mattio Pitcher and Carrie Cope.”
While he spoke, tho two ladies
named, with Mrs. Cope as chaperon,
were standing in a large, well-lighted
gallery, \yhcre a few paintings hung
with wide spaces between them, invit¬
ing admiration or criticism.
“But Mattie,” Miss Copo was say¬
ing, “the face and, figure are a per¬
fect portrait of yourself. You look
different, too, more .childlike. Tho
expression i? not so intellectual, but I
am sure you looked just like that when
you wore very young! Now,, mam¬
ma, isn’t it like Mattie?” .
“I think it is!” was the quiet reply.
“No. 32. ■ Why Carrie, it' is one of A1
Hutchinson’s pictures. I Wonder if
he is in Paris 1”
“Cease to wonder, Cousin Mary,”
said a masculino voico, close beside
the group. How are you I Oh (Jadh
what an atrocious hat!”.
“I won’t bo called Cadi” pouted
Miss Carrie. “Yes I will, too! You
may call me Gad for ‘auld Jang syne.’
Mattio, lot me introduce my cousin
sixteen limes removed, my dear—Mr.
Hutchinson.”
But already Mattie’s hand had been
taken ir. a firm clasp, and Mrs Hutch¬
inson was expressing his delight at
meeting Miss Pitcher, and inquiring
for Aunt Martha.
It was a delightful morning. They
sauntered through the gallery, admir¬
ing the works of their countrymen,
chatting of old times, planning a
thousand excursions, until Mrs. Cope
gave a dismayed exclamation over her
watch, aud hurried down to her car¬
riage,
“The Copes have really' takon pos¬
session of Mattie,” said Mrs. Mont¬
rose, a month later. “She is never
here. It is fortunate there is no son,
Algernon.”
“Yes; but there is an artist fellow
always with them—a eonsin, or some¬
thing. Willett says he is immensely
rich, and paints for love of it. I doii’t
know myself whether it is Miss Gope
or Miss Pitcher that is the attraction,,
but he is always dangling after them.”
“Oh, Algernon I how can you let
such things go on? Why don’t you
exert yourself, and make yourself at¬
tractive to Mattie? You arc the hand¬
somest man in Paris at this minute.”
“Well, the truth is, mother, Miss
Mattie seems to, look upon me as about
one remove from an idiot, because I
cannot talk art or books or music.”
Which last remark certainly proved
that Algernon Montrose had not, at all
events, lost l.is powers of penetration.
Mrs. Montrose, however, made one
strenuous effort to mend matters by
proposing to leave Paris at once, and
proceed to Italy.
“I think,” Mattie said, “that I should
like to stay a month or two longer in
Paris. But I need npt detain you,
Mrs. Montrose. . Mrs. Cope has most
kindly invited me to join her party.”
A letter crossed the ocean, not long
afterward, to Miss Martha, some sen¬
tences of which may be here recorded:
“We will delay the wedding until I come
home, dear Auntie, but that will be in a few
weeks. It may be that Albert and I will
return to Europe next year, but \ye are com¬
ing back to you now. He is anxious to see
you, and be sure you are willing for ms to
marry ‘your tramp.'’ I never thought,when
he left us, that In a strange country \va
should meet again, ami I hear front his own
lips that be loved me long ago, and was
heart-broken when he went to seek me at
Arrowdale and found only a yawning coa|
pit! But it is all right now, Auntie, and I
am the happiest woman in the world.”
— [New York Ledger.
i Our Detectives.
This world is getting too small to
hold certain kinds of bad people. Two
years ago a bank messenger in New
York stole a package of bank notes
worth forty-one thousand dollars. Ho
cunningly kept on with his work as
usual for a yoar, and then removed
with his stolen money to Honduras,
where ho lived quietly and in much
confidence, because there is no extra¬
dition treaty between Honduras and
the United States; but all this time a
detective was shadowing him, and
finally got tho money from him, and
will probably get the man.
Last year a thief was arrested in
South America, eight years after the
commission of a robbery in the United
S 'ales. There is now a secret under¬
standing among tho polico authorities
and detective agencies over the great
cr part of the globo. They assist one
another in such ways as to render it
all but impossible for a criminal to es¬
cape, into whatever part of the earth
lie may go.
Nothing can outstrip tho electric
current, which now passes over nearly
all lands and under nearly all seas.
We often hear nowadays of default¬
ers running away, with or without
their booty, and we do not always hear
of their arrest. Generally, however,
they are arrested, though sometimes
they escape the penalty due their crime
by surrendering a great part of their
plunder. The system is not yet per¬
fected, and its working is attended
with too much expense. Tho time is
not distant when the chief of polico in
New York or Boston will bo able to
arrest a man in Australia just as easi¬
ly, quickly and cheaply as if he were
in the next street.— [Youth’s Com
panion.
Pine-Apple for Diphtheria.
It is said that nature has her own
remedy for every ill to which flesh is
heir. Some of her remedies have not
yet been discovered and some that have
been found out havo not become gen¬
erally known. Medical science lias
long sought for a sovereign remedy
for the scourgo of childhood, diphthe¬
ria, yet the colored people of Louisi¬
ana, and perhaps of other localities in
the South, have for years known and
used a cure which is remarkable for
its simplicity. It is nothing more nor
less than the pure juice, of the pine¬
apple.
“The remedy is not mine,” said a
gentleman, when interviewed, “it lias
been used in the swamps down South
for years. One i f my children was
down with diphtheria and was in a
critical condition. An old colored man
who heard of the case asked if we had
tried pine-apple juice. We tried it. and
the child got well. I have known it
tried in hundreds of cases. I have told
my friends about it whenever I heard
of a case and never knew it to fail.
You get a ripe pine-apple, squeeze out
the juice, and let the patient swallow it.
“The juico is of so corrosive a na¬
ture that it will cut out diphtheritic
mucu?, and if you will tako the frui
before it is ripe, and give tho juice to
a person whose throat is well, it makes
the mucous membrano of his throat
sore. Among those who have tried
the euro on my recommendation, I
may mention Francis J. Ken nett, the
Board of Trado man, whoso children
were all down with diphtheria and
wei’e'' cured by this remedy.” Mr.
Kennett confirmed tLo statement.—
[Chicago Tribune.
Business Men's Widows.
One day recently six sisters met in
reunicn near Philadelphia, tho oldest
eighty-four, the youngest seventy
four. Five were widows; of the sixlh
the husband is living. And this sug¬
gests something else of a similiar im¬
port. Some' years ago sixteen city
men, all in active life and all married,
built as many country places in a cer¬
tain locality. Today only four of the
sixteen men survive. There are nine
surviving widows—no widower. If
there is any moral to this story, it
seems to be, that it is worth while be¬
ing a business man’s wife rather than
a business man’s self. The attention
of fiction mongers is invited to the
figures and the situation they imply.
Vol. X, New Series. NO. 28
A GEORGIA SWAMP.
Life in the Vast and Weird
Depths of Okefenokee.
How This "King of the Swamp”
Manages to Exist.
The prairie land, which covers a
considerable portion of the Okefeno¬
kee swamp, is a very remarkable for¬
mation, and is, says a correspondent
of the Atlanta (Gu.) Journal, peculiar
to this swamp. It is open land, en¬
tirely free from timber, aud stretching
away as far as the eye can reach in
civ cry direction. It has most of tho
charac eristics of a lmgo inland sea,
except the waves. Interspersed here
and there in this huge prairie are small
patches of high dry ground, of varia¬
ble size and heavily timbered called
cowhouses.
1 am unable to ascertain the propri¬
ety of this name, unless it he that tho
cattle, deer and other animals seek
these places for shelter and to get out
of tho water. The surface of these
prunes is covered with a deposit of
decayed vegetation that has been accu¬
mulating for centuries, and is called
muck. This varies in thickness from
four to ten feet, with water beneath,
and below the water sand. This sin¬
gular formation gives to the swamp
its name of Trembling Earth. It will
support tho weight of the average man
if ho keeps moving omvavd; but if he
pauses an instant he commences to
sink, and may go through toVis waist
or over his head. At every step the
water oozes up around tho feet, while
the muck will tremble and quiver for
yards around.
There is something grand and even
sublime to the visitor in tho silent
vustness of this prairio formation. It
stretches away before the eye in every
dircctiou until only limited by the ho¬
rizon, its perfect stillness only broken
by tho occasional bellow of some huge
alligator, or the far distant scream of
6ome unknown bird. Hero and there
can be seen tho track left behind by
some hunter, where possibly years ago
he had laboriously poled his canoe
along in pursuit of game, the path as
distinct and fresh now as if made
only yesterday. All around fish of
endless species and sizes can be scon
swimming and darling about, whilo
not infrequently the eye may fall upon
gome immense alligator or snako sun¬
ning himself upon tho surface of the
muck and water or slowly sinking out
of sight as soon as ho is discovered.
This description conveys a slight but
at best a very imperfect idea of the
prairie land of tills swamp.
Upon the island where we are at
present cncuinpod arc living two
families, with the aged fathor, named
Cheshire. The old gentleman is nearly
80 years of age, and has spent thirty
odd years of his life here in this spot.
At the time of the expedition sent
through the swamp by tho Constitu¬
tion lie acted as guide, and is full of
reminiscences of that- trip. Ho is a
wonderful fisherman, and indeed calls
himself the King of the Swamp, to
which position he says he was duly ap¬
pointed and commissioned by Dr. Lit¬
tle, the State geologist. The two sons
of Mr. Cheshire have their fumilics
hero. The men attempt to cultivate
small crops, but spend most of their
timo hunting.
Their revenue is almost entirely de¬
rived from tho sale of bides of alli¬
gators, deer and bears. The quantity
of these that they destroy and many
of their stories of hunting adventures
are almost incredible. Think of a
hunter shooting down four deer with
a rifle, one after another, and without
moving from one spot. In sevorai of
the lakes that are thickly interspersed
throughout tins prairio the . alligators
are so numerous and fierce that they
will attack a man in a boat, as soon as
he appears among them, and shooting
them by night, which is the way they
are commonly killed, is sometimes at¬
tended with no little danger.
The entire armament of tho Cheshire
family consists of one ten gauge, ten
pound double-barreled Remington
shotgun and two Winchester rifles,
one thirty-eight calibre and one thirty
two. Also a small yellow pine bow,
&«d a few cane arrows. These latter
are used in shooting fish, and I feel
safe in affirming that tho dexterity
with which these men use their rude
bow and arrow will put to shame the
average Atlanta marksman wilt his
rifle.
In passing over the prairie one of
tho Cheshires will suddenly poise hi*
little bow and send his little arrow fly¬
ing into the water, ordinarily into a
spot where you or I would see noth¬
ing, but the way in which that arrow
will dance about for the next minute
or two wilt convince you not only that
there is an object on tho other end of
it, but that it is an object of some size,
too. When your hunter pulls up his
arrow behol 1 a four or six pound
trout or black bass, centrally trans¬
fixed, a shot that few of our marks¬
men could make with a gun.
Secrets About Hat-Making.
A New York Journal reporter asked
a Brooklyn gentleman engaged in the
retail hat busine-s whether exceptional
profits arc made in that line of trade.
lie said:
The profit in the hat business rangee
from twenty-five to lifty per cent.
There is more money in cheap lmts
than in high-priced ones. For instance,
when 1 was in (lie business I sold a $5
hat (derby), on which I made a little
over protit. while on a cheap hat I
made a profit of $1.80. 1 would
rather sell three $i hats than one $3
one.
“Wool derbies which sell for $1 each
cost from $5 to $8 per dozen. For a
time a wool hat will make a3 good an
appearance as a felt one, but when the
rain strikes the wool the hat loses its
glossy appearance. Silk hats are not
worn so much now as formerly.”
“What becomes of the hats left over
iu stock each season?”
“They aro sold or given away.
Some men who are on to the trick
will, on enterihg a hat store, ask for
the last season's style. They don’t
care if the hat is just a triflo out of
stylo if they can buy it fifty per cent,
cheaper. Irresponsible hatters who
do a transient business often soil men
off-season styles at tho same prices ob
tained for prevailing ones, Hats which
can’t be sold aro sent to male institu¬
tions. Hatters often sustain heavy
losses in stock left over.”
“Do not manufacturers change their
styles for the purpose of compelling
fashionable men to purchase uew hats
yearly?’
“Yes. If tho styles wore not
changed each season tho factories could
not bo kept running. Soft felt, bats
are popular with many men. They
aro costly' and aro worth from $5 to
$12 each, according to the quality?”
Taking an Oath of Friendship.
The London Illustrated Nows do
scribes a curious ceremony which re¬
cently occurred iu British Bunnah,
whilo a British expedition was en¬
gaged in bringing certain Hostile tribes
into subjection in tho Lushai country.
The sce'ne depicted is that of a Lushai
chief Hiking an oath of friendship
witli the political officer of tho expe¬
dition, Mr. Murray. Preparatory to
tho ceremony, a clear spat*'was made
in tho jungle, and plnntain-lefcv6s
strewn on tlie ground. Then the
chief, his brother, and attendants,
seated themselves in a row, facing a
yomiT pig-antl a gyal or tame bison, ,
which were tied to a tree.
- After a short parley tho chief rose
and, taking a spear, handed it to Mr.
Murray, and they both plunged it into -
the pig. The chief then smeared some
of the pig’s blood on Mr. Murray’s
forehead, and the latter returned the
compliment. A similar ceremony wa 9
performed with the gyal. The chief
then said: “Until the suu ceases to
shine in the heavens, and until yonder
stream runs backward, I will be your
true aud faithful friend.” Potations
of rice beer and rum concluded the
ceremony. An oath taken in this man.
nor is considered by the Lnshais most
binding, and thoy aro seldom known
to break it.
y
Books at $500 Per Onnce.
Of the original edition of the son¬ !
nets of Shakespeare, published by
George Daniel of London in 1009,
there are but two perfect copies known.
One of these is in the British Museum;
for the other $5000 was paid but a
short time ago. As the book is very
small, only seven by nine inches, and
weighing less than ten ounces, it has
been figured that at that rate each
ounce of tho precious volume brought
$500, or many times its own weight in
gold.—[St. Louis Republic. I
-